


Don't Call Me Shirley

by shurb



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Western, Blood, Blood and Injury, Cowboys, Deal with a Devil, Eventual Romance, Fantasy, Gun Violence, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human Upgraded Connor | RK900, Injury, Kinda, M/M, Romance, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25976800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shurb/pseuds/shurb
Summary: A Wild, Wild West AU of D:BH, plus some fantasy. Inspired partly by the movie Ghost Rider (2005), directed by Mark Steven Johnson.____________________WANTED:"The Itchy-Trigger Bandit"$8,800 Reward____________________WANTED:Hank Anderson"The Sharp-Eyed Bison"$500 RewardRichard "Dick" Adams looks at the poster hanging outside the sheriff's office, anger building within him. The bounty has increased once more; someone really wants that man dead. How hard is it to catch a greenhorn like that? He is a human like everyone else, but said to carry the burden of a hundred souls on his back.Richard doesn't believe this bosh from these loons around town.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard is disappointed with the other towns' sheriffs unable to catch this bandit that is building the bounty on his head heavens-high.  
> Then there turns up another man, who appears to know how to handle himself with cowboys. He is rather impressive to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:
> 
> I have not lived in these times, and certainly not in America. If things are a little odd or do not make sense, you shouldn't take it too serious. It's a fanfiction after all. I did do some research to provide a good reading experience, but nothing will come close to what really happened in these times.

_"Look at these fools roaming the earth._   
_Undeserving of what they had been gifted since birth, while the dogs still scrape together all they can to survive another day."_   
_The boy stared up at the star-spotted dark sky, sitting on a barrel behind a wooden building. It was a nice night. A quiet one compared to the others he usually experienced. It was an awful silence though. The reason he could sit out here to breathe in the slowly cooling air was because he didn't have any work to waste his time with anymore. No way to earn a living. The bar had found a worker cheaper than him._   
_"Keep talkin'," he urged the alluring voice that spoke to him out of nowhere. He was done with this place. Left all alone by the few he had put trust into. The ground was dusty, and a gust of wind whirled some the sand up. The fog around his head grew stronger as the disembodied voice spoke up again._   
_"You can show them what you're capable of. You may be a mere human, but with my help, you'll reach the stars you're so dearly hoping for with no problem."_   
_14 years have been spent hunting for something he knew he would never ever reach. This offer was tempting._   
_The boy looked down at the dirty ground, and jumped off the barrel, taking a few steps away from the commotion inside. His heart was empty of any sympathy he had once held for anyone. All of them were egoistic, merciless. He would make all of them pay for taking, but never giving.  
Now it was his time to make a name for himself._   
_"What do I need to do for you in exchange?"_

* * *

"Richard, I hung up the new Wanted-posters outside the office," his younger brother informed him. The man stood up, his white shirt already sweaty due to this unbearable heat in the small building. He grabbed his Stetson and put it on as he walked outside to examine them once more. The star over his heart glistened when the sun's rays shone on it.

**WANTED:**   
**"The Itchy-Trigger Bandit"**   
**$8,800 Reward**

Anger rose within him. The bounty's price had increased a little once more. Someone really wanted that poor bastard dead in a ditch, but for all he cared his town should just be safe from outlaws like him. Taking things that didn't belong to them, leaving a trail of blood behind.. what was the world coming to?

The displayed profile of the man was not very informative; a wide-brimmed hat hid the shape of his head as no one had ever seen him without it, and the handkerchief around his lower face obscured the rest of what could be useful to identify this hellborn bandit in case he ever was foolish enough to set a dusty boot in his town.

Richard sighed and leaned against the fence before the house, hands gripping the dry wood tightly.  
"Good afternoon, sheriff!", someone called out to him and he looked over. The mayor of this small town, a strict and serious man, who probably had seen many other sheriffs lose their life before; why else would he check up with their business so often, despite the Adams brothers' good work? Some drunkard who stirred up trouble in the local bar was put behind bars quickly, and got out once he had sobered up. Bandits brought to them for the bounty were locked up until the law took care of the rest and brought to jail in one of the bigger cities.  
Richard nodded in greeting. "Good afternoon, Mr. Fowler. What brings you here today?"  
"The usual," he stepped onto the small porch before the office and looked at the posters. "I see they still haven't found out who he is." The man placed his hands on his hips. "It's a darn shame a youth like him has succumbed to the life of murder and mayhem. Some witnesses said he sounds rather young."  
Richard shook his head. "You cannot tell me you actually believe these stories from 'witnesses'. One man worth around $9000, and he is supposed to be nothing but a snotnosed kid?"  
"Well, what else do we know about him? If you suddenly pull out an ace from your sleeve, I'd like to hear all about it, Mr. Adams."  
He was right. He had no idea as to what he sounded like, nor had he ever seen the bandit in person.

Fowler moved to stand next to him, leaning against the pillar that held the deck in place. "How are things going with Ms. Roberts? Have you finally asked her out?"  
Richard stood straight, arms crossing over his chest. He didn't want to talk about his relationship with Daisy. It was no one's business, leave alone he wasn't interested in this way. If he were to go out with her, he feared she would take it the wrong way, and he would either need to fulfil his duty as a single 28 year old, single man and marry her, or explain to her that their meetings had been a mistake from the start. Each option would hurt one person involved.  
"No. And I do not intend to do so."  
Fowler rubbed the sweat off his forehead and huffed: "That is unfortunate. You're a healthy and successful young man. And she is lonely and, as I heard, wishing for her own little family. Maybe that would do you some good."  
"How that?"  
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed that your whole life is devoted to your work as sheriff-" "Which is something I am supposed to do; possibly until I die," he interrupted him. He did not wish for a family. It was a giant responsibility. And if he were to join God in heaven before his children were old enough to care for themselves, then there would be a big problem for Daisy - or any woman he chose to have a life together with, really.  
"I am not ready yet, Mr. Fowler."  
"Alright," the mayor stepped off the veranda, looking back one more time to advise: "I do hope you reconsider at least meeting up with her. You might feel better after a good talk with someone else other than just your brother. He might choose to go to the big city after all."  
He stared after him, not letting the irritation growing within him show. He had to represent someone under the law. And that was what he was going to do.

Another hour passed, the sun at its highest now, when there was some commotion outside that cut through the serenity of a noon in Crossroads. Richard abandoned his seat behind the desk to look outside. Some people were screaming, some mumbling. Whatever was coming into town from one end, it was getting louder quickly with the sound of hooves practically shaking the ground beneath.  
He stepped off the porch, hand already at his revolver hanging off his hip.

About 120 feet away, Richard could make out two horses, one with two people, the other alone on the animal. The man chasing the two in front was swinging a lasso, gracefully aiming it and throwing it at the other who was now just passing his office on the light brown stallion. As the lasso-swinging stranger pulled back the rope, the man had to let go of the reins, and fell hard to the ground, leaving the lady in the pink dress to bring the animal to stop. The gentlemen of the town were kind enough to assist her in calming the creature when it chose to get slower on its own, but was still agitated.  
That left the sheriff to investigate the two poorly dressed men undisturbed.

He watched the hero of the hour jump off the mare smoothly, leathern and worn boots hitting the dust. Odd, how he chose to wear a black shirt in such a heat with an additional leathern vest, let alone dark, heavy-wool pants with chaps. One could suffer a heat stroke easily with such wear. It didn't look like the man had even broken into a sweat.  
The stranger strode smugly over to the kidnapper still laying there, fingers hooked in his belt. He was just regaining consciousness it seemed, and rolled onto his back  
"Ugh.. shit."  
"Woah, there," the other grinned, placing his foot on the fallen, "there's women in our presence. Ya smooch yer mother with that mouth, too?" He pressed the heel further into the man's stomach.

Richard used the opening to interrupt.  
"Care to explain what's happened here?" He asked, hands resting at his sides once he reached them.  
The shorter man looked up, pulling his brown, wide-brimmed hat back to get a better look at the sheriff.  
"Ah, sheriff. How good you're here. Ya can put this shote right behind bars," he answered with a grin. "Grabbed that lady off a passin' waggon an' made a run for it. Good luck I was there to help."

Richard took the gun from the bandit's holster, stuffing it between his belt, and accepted the rope offered to him.  
"I'd like that back. Along with some form o' compensation."  
"I fear you'll have to ask the girl yourself for that, mister."  
"Call me Gavin," he held out his hand, and Richard took it. Calloused hands, used to heavy work. "Richard."  
With that he turned away to leave the stranger standing there. On his way back inside, he called out: "Send the young Miss to my office, please, once she's calmed down!"

The outlaw was locked into a cell after the ties were removed, and Richard was on his way back to the desk, when something stopped him.  
That "hero" was sitting on the chair before his desk, usually for visitors, and his feet propped up on the piece of furniture. What nerve he had!  
"Get your feet off my desk," he said with a chilly tone, throwing the rope at him. He caught it, but kept his shoes where they were.  
Richard sat down across from him. What manners. Hadn't even bothered to take off his hat inside.  
Before he could continue to scold the boy for his behaviour, the kidnapped woman entered the room.  
That finally compelled Gavin to get up and take off his hat, and Richard did the same to greet her properly.

"Hello, Miss. Are you feeling alright?"  
She nodded, and sat down on the now empty chair, while the other stood leaning against the wall.  
"Yes, I feel fine, thanks to my saviour. Who knows where that criminal would have taken me?"  
When she looked down at her hands in thoughts, Richard reassured her: "It doesn't matter now. He will be taken away soon. You're safe now."  
"Yes, of course." She smiled gently at him.  
"Miss-" "Call me Helen. Helen Roberts." Richard's eyes widened at the revelation of who he had sitting in front of him. The Roberts were quite wealthy and the heads of a big trading company in the South. She was the daughter of Jack Roberts.  
"Alright, Miss Roberts. Could you tell me what exactly happened?" He took some paper and a pencil to note down the victim's statement.  
"I was on a waggon traveling to the farthest side East in Texas, when suddenly our cart was ambushed by this man in the cell. He grabbed me and sat me on his horse, always aiming his gun at me. He threatened to kill my chauffeur if he were to follow us, and then we rode off. On the way we passed someone," she turned her head to look at Gavin, "and I called out for help."  
Richard looked at the man's green eyes, that bore into his own blue ones. "Can you testify that?"  
"Yeah, I was on my way here when these two came runnin' out o' nowhere. When the dame called out for help, I followed 'em. We rode into town, and the rest is what you saw, sheriff."  
"Alright, that would be all for now. Miss Roberts, I'd advise you to send a letter to your father to let him know of what had happened. The postman will be advised to hurry so you can be home safe again soon. Until someone arrives to bring you there, you can surely stay in the town's saloon. It may not be the most appropriate for a young lady such as yourself, but that is all our town has to offer at the moment."  
She stood up: "I will, thank you very much."

Miss Roberts stepped out of the office, the two men saying their goodbye's.

"You're not going after her to ask for your 'compensation'?" Richard asked boldly, storing the notes he took in the desk's compartment and locking it.  
Gavin shook his head, putting his hat back on without the feminine company in the room. "There'll be scad opportunity to make my dime. 'specially when I find that Itchy-Trigger Bandit. Highest bounty I've ever seen."  
"Good luck with that. I'd be glad to know that our proud America is a little safer without this outlaw around. It's said he's rather deft though."  
Gavin chuckled: "That won't be a problem for me."  
 _That's what the 15 other bounty hunters claimed as well_ , Richard thought to himself.

"Will I see ya tonight in the saloon?" He asked, and the sheriff wondered as to why he would.  
"You planning on drinking me under the table? If so, I'll have to disappoint you; I do not enjoy alcohol in large quantities."  
"Someone's strict," Gavin frowned slightly, and the other noticed the big scar across his nose and left cheek when he puckered his face, "but no. I wanted to find out more about that drifter from ya. If I wanna bring that man down, then I gotta know who I'm dealin' with."  
Richard huffed: "You are not going to 'bring down' anyone! The law handles the criminals. 'Dead or Alive' means nothing other than 'in case of defending oneself against the other'."  
"Sure, 'cause he'll wanna come with me willingly with such a high bounty." Gavin stepped outside into the sun and called out: "I'll see ya tonight then, sheriff!"

Richard refused to fully acknowledge the invitation. But some parts in him reminded him of the talk he had with the mayor earlier.  
 _"You might feel better after a good talk with someone else other than just your brother."  
_ Let alone that the stranger seemed like he knew what he was doing. Having thrown the lasso like that could have ended in Ms. Roberts getting hurt, but he had managed to skilfully only catch the bandit. It might be a good idea to have that conversation with him, and tell him what he knew of the bounty-piling crook.

"You're going to the bar? Are you meeting up with Daisy?" Connor put on his nightshirt. It was dark outside already, and his younger brother was usually early in bed to get to the office even before Richard; he rarely succeeded.  
"No, I am just going for a drink," he lied, throwing on some more elegant garment than his working clothes.  
Their small house was a few away from the office, and a little further away from the saloon, which was in another street in the T-shaped town. It had been built recently after someone had burned the old one down at the edge of the settlement. That had been a long and strenuous night, making sure that the fire wouldn't eat away at the other buildings nearby.  
Richard was happy to be able to experience the blooming phase of Crossroads. Every week, it seemed, more people came here, settled, and built their homes, expanding his town to slowly resemble a city. He was sure it would be just that in the future.

"Don't lie to me! You never go out to drink, especially not alone," Connor pointed out, and of course his observant brother was right. After work, he either read a book or slept.  
Richard still chose to not burden him with the truth: "I am going to tonight."  
With that he quickly swept his hair back, checking it in the mirror, before snatching his Stetson from the hanger next to the door and slamming the door shut behind him.  
It was quickly getting cooler now that the sun was gone, but it felt like the coldness had.. dark, almost foreboding undertones.  
These legends of deals with the devils weren't true. No one had actually ever seen the demon itself. Still, at times, Richard felt like he had some sort of sixth sense that warned him of inevitable events.

He shook off the feeling that settled around his head, and made his way to the saloon.  
The place was filled as usual, with gamblers and drunkards, who liked to share the stories of old legends just like the one that accompanied the Itchy-Trigger bandit. A man, who had arranged a deal with evil, wandering around to collect the souls of the sinners in someone else's name. Children stories, that's what they were.  
The sheriff was not being paid any mind as he swung open the doors, as most attention laid on the saloon girls on the small stage in the back, dancing to cheer up the patrons.  
His eyes scanned the customers, eventually locking onto the man he was searching for. He was still dressed as this noon, and once again he wore his hat inside. He wasn't sure as to why he was so stern with the etiquette around him, but he just didn't like it. Hats come off inside, and in front of women. End of the story.

He ordered two glasses of whiskey, carrying them over to the table the stranger was sitting at, watching the dancers on stage.  
Gavin looked over when he sat down.  
"Ah, sheriff. Thought ya weren't goin' a show up!"  
"Unfortunately I did," he responded icily, and the other stared at him before breaking out in laughter.  
"I 'ppreciate yer honesty. Really though, it's nice to see ya pulled the stick outta yer ass to have some fun."  
Richard groaned in frustration: "We are here to discuss something serious."  
"I'll first drink to that." With that he lifted his glass, taking a couple gulps. He looked younger than Richard, and still had an aura that spoke of greater age.

"So, what do ya know of 'im?" He leaned in closer, exposing an odd stain on his neck under his red handkerchief wound around it. Richard quickly looked away and gathered his thoughts.  
"As you probably saw for yourself already, we do not know what he looks like. No reported instances of him having taken off his disguise. But many claim the man to be around 35 years old, with a rough or hoarse voice."  
"What eye color? Maybe a beard?" Gavin pried, but the sheriff only rubbed his tired face. "He wears a necktie around his face whenever he is seen. And the eye color... You will take me for a shanny, but he is supposed to have red eyes, that glow in the dark."  
Gavin rose a brow. "Red.. eyes?"  
"Yes. I do not believe this myself. It's not possible. Just like it isn't possible that he had made a deal with the devil as people claim he did."  
"He even still alive an' kickin'? Maybe multiple folks are usin' his name."  
Richard hadn't thought of that yet. As much as that would complicate things, it was something to consider.  
"It is possible."

Gavin leaned back, and pulled out a little box that held quirlies from his vest. He searched for something else in his pockets, but didn't seem to find it.  
While the hand-made cigarette hung loosely from his lips, the girls had started to roam the room, talking with the patrons. One came right over to them, taking the liberty to sit on the cowboy's lap while holding out a small box of matches.  
"Why thank you, ma'am." Gavin set his hat down on the tabletop. He let the woman light the cigarette for him, and he took a drag, blowing the smoke away from her face. Looked like his "friend" was enjoying the company.  
"Didn' know the town had such friendly nannies," he commented, and Richard was shocked at his use of words. Calling someone a nanny was rather derogatory. And the girl knew that, too, when she gasped and slapped him hard across the face.  
Some men who had watched whistled.  
"Sorry, ma'am. Haven't been in the comp'ny o' fine women like yerself in some time." She looked over to the bartender, then quickly back to Gavin. The quick dispute was short-lived, as she sat more comfortably on his lap again, one leg swinging over the other.  
"You travel much, sir?"  
"I do," he drank more of his whiskey before adding, "But tellin' ya these stories might be a little too harsh for yer kind nature."  
"That's unfortunate. I'm sure I could handle it, though." Her hand stroked over his cheek and the rough stubble from the beginning of a beard.

Richard was getting bored quickly, and started to sip the strong beverage.  
Seemed like the other was not being entertained much either, and looked back over to him.  
"So, all I got's to know that he's a dangerous gunslinger, no name, an' no specific looks?"  
He nodded.  
"Where has he been seen?"  
The woman chimed in: "Oh, are you talking about the Bandit? I heard he gallops through the West on a horse made of bones only!"  
"That is ridiculous, Miss," Richard argued, "The horse would be dead if it were stripped to its bones."  
"That's the thing," she leaned closer, arm coming to rest around Gavin's neck, "The souls he collects from the sinners keep him and his horsie alive!"  
"It is not possible! No human, nor the devil can interfere with God's business. Only our Lord decides about the fate of us."

The conversation wasn't going anywhere. And he had already told the man all he knew except for these fever-dream rumours circling around and spreading like a wildfire.  
"Excuse me," the sheriff got up, and grabbed his hat, "But I'll take my leave. There is nothing more I can tell you about the Bandit."  
"Darn shame ya don' wanna stay longer. It's jus' gettin' real fun, too," Gavin smirked at the saloon girl, who looked away with an embarrassed expression.  
Richard said a quick goodnight, and exited the bar. Maybe he should check up on the kidnapper. See that he doesn't think about fleeing his fate.

So that was where he went next. He opened the door to the office with his keys he always carried with him, and stepped before the cell.  
But when he lit up the lantern on a small table next to the bars, his heart stopped. Before him laid the corpse of a man, fear and horror etched into his pale face. His eyes were bleeding. Richard quickly opened the door and knelt next to the dead man, checking him for any injuries that could hint at how this could have happened. But all he could see out of the ordinary were bruises around his neck. His position would suggest that either someone had strangled him from behind inside the cell and dropped him forward.. or someone had utilised the small window over the bunk, because the murderer actually having been in here was impossible.

Whatever the case, there was a dead man at his feet.

Killed by the Itchy-Trigger Bandit.

He was in town.

And he would find him.


	2. Flannel-mouthed Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's here. And he is out for blood. Richard knows he has to find him quickly.

"Richard, what are you doing here already?"

Ugh, what?  
The sheriff opened his eyes. Was it still dark? Nope, it was just beginning to get bright as he saw when he lifted his head off the desk.  
He groaned and stretched his tense muscles when sitting up. His neck and back hurt horribly.  
He must have fallen asleep at his desk in the office while filing a report about what he had witnessed last night.

Richard jumped up from the chair when the terrifying images of the dead man returned, and stumbled over to his brother in a hurry. The man looked surprised at the other's sudden outburst, and worried when firm hands gripped him by his shoulders.  
"Are you alright? Did anyone come into our house last night?!"  
Seeing Richard so hysterical - which he seldom was - unnerved Connor greatly, and he frowned.  
"Did something happen? What are you so shaken up about?"  
Richard wasn't sure if he should show the young man the body. He should just go to the undertaker and let him prepare the body for a proper burial, but Connor was a striving sheriff like him, and he would eventually be confronted with things like this.  
Especially now that the bandit was in town, he needed to know. He needed to be cautious.

"Prepare yourself, Connor. I found a dead body," he started and let go of him, walking towards the last cell in the building, "murdered by the devil's servant himself."  
Despite him having seen the bleeding, and white glassy eyes already hours earlier, it still sent shivers down his spine.  
Connor stepped before the bars unsurely, and took a peek inside. His face paled at the sight, and what it included. They might all be in danger.

"We.. we have to warn everyone!" He called out.  
Richard shook his head: "No. We have to make sure that everyone is safe. And by causing panic we won't achieve that."  
The sheriff walked back to his desk and grabbed his hat. "We have to advise everyone to stay in groups of two. And not to be out too late."

Richard's eyes turned determined, a far gaze directed at the orange-purple sky outside. "If we want to catch the man who is responsible for this deed, then we have to keep quiet.. lure him in until we catch him."  
"That's still too dangerous, Richard! More people could fall under the man's hand!"  
"And if he realises that we know of his presence, then he either decides to send us all to heaven, or flees to kill more people somewhere else!"  
Connor stared at his brother in shock. It was a plan, one with too many risks. But Richard was the boss. The sheriff. What he said went.

"I.., alright. I won't tell anyone," he finally gave in, and the other nodded gratefully.  
"I'll go to the undertaker once he opens his shop. Until then I'll be out to take care of some business. Stay here and watch out that no one enters, understood?"  
"Understood."

With that Richard stepped out into the still cool air, breathing in deeply. He should be thankful to still be alive. But something told him that the Bandit really had it in for sinners only. And he couldn't remember having done anything bad. It was a stupid way to think though, because why should the devil's slave care about the innocent? If he was in the man's way, there was no telling if he would spare him or not.  
Wishful thinking, maybe.

Richard was on his way to the town hall to inform Mr. Fowler of yesterday's events, when the sound of a horse braying cut through the tranquil scene of the still-sleeping town. He looked further ahead, spotting the source of the noise.  
Gavin was trying to clean the horse's hooves, but something appeared to be upsetting it.  
The sheriff chose to walk over, and greet the cowboy.  
"Good morning."  
"Howdy, sheriff," the other groaned out, still trying to keep the creature's leg still while picking the sand that had built up underneath out. "I'd be happy to talk to yer, but Betty over here's givin' me a hard time and this dirt needs ta come out."  
"She looks rather distressed. You might want to take a break."  
Gavin huffed: "Yeah, maybe. She usually ain't that nervous. Feels like a bad ome-!" Betty had had enough of her owner's constant prodding, and kicked out with one of her mighty legs, sending the man flying across the street. He landed on his back with a heavy thump.  
Richard quickly walked over, leaning over Gavin's curled up from.  
"Are you alright?"  
He coughed out, hands grasping his ribs tightly: "Ugh.. y-yeah. No need ta worry. Happened 'fore."

The sheriff shook his head out of bafflement, and held his hand out to the stranger to help him up.  
He took it, and was pulled back up to his feet. His clothes were all dusty now, and Richard repressed the urge to pat it off. He disliked dirt on clothes.

"Whether it happened before or not doesn't matter. Your bones won't break any less from impacts like this," Richard scolded him.  
"Fine, I promise I'll see the doc once I'm done here." Gavin shook out his hat from all the excess sand and dust. "What's got ya doin' errands at this hour anyway?"  
The sheriff was unsure of his answer. After all, the man before him could spread panic if he knew about yesterday's happenings, but he was also one of the few in this town who looked skilled enough to handle the bandit.  
"Don't go running your mouth, but I suspect the outlaw you're searching for is already in town. Took the man in jail to hell himself, right under my nose." He was angry at himself for not having prevented the murder. But how could he have known that the nameless desperado was here?  
"He.. how do I know yer ain't pullin' my leg? How'd ya know it's him?" Gavin looked at him with suspicion. Richard couldn't blame him. He hadn't seen the body, unnaturally pale with the bleeding eyes. Richard may not have been totally convinced of the existence of a devil's servant roaming these lands, but some _thing_ or _-one_ was, whether he wanted to admit that or not.  
"I saw the body. It felt as if.. some ominous emptiness emitted from the corpse. I cannot explain it, really. I can just describe it as some sort of... lack of soul, and all that was left was the husk."  
"Sounds like yer readin' me a spooky bedtime story. But ey, if ya think he's here, then I'll do all to catch 'im." Gavin was the only reassuring anchor here. Many men, and few women had taken their last breath due to the desperado after trying to get the bounty. He didn't want more poor souls to suffer. He had to trust him.  
"Alright then. It would be greatly appreciated if you did this feat. Just make sure you don't get yourself killed."

The other laughed heartily and walked back over to his horse.  
Richard huffed: "What is the laughing matter?"  
"You bein' c'ncerned 'bout a lowlife like me."

Richard watched him for a moment longer, unspeaking, before he continued on his way.

* * *

_The pure white moon stood high over the hills._   
_A horse galloped peacefully over the dry earth, while the boy on top of it strummed the strings on his guitar lazily. A truly tranquil sight, if not for the trail of blood of his victims following him like a shadow._

_The wheels of the overturned waggon down the hill still turned as if hanging onto a last lifeline, showing those absent of the tragedy what had occurred mere seconds ago.  
The arm of the shot woman looked out from under the cart, while two other men laid just as lifeless around it._

_"Three in one night... You exceed my expectations, human. But don't get lazy now. There is still much work to be done."  
_

_He looked up at the stars, as if that would help spotting the body the sinister voice belonged to. But no such luck. The devil wouldn't show his form yet. He would see him one day though, if not when he kicked the bucket. There was a growing fire in hell waiting for him - and the more people he heisted off of their souls, the less he cared. Let the horned beast take him once he was done here._

_The boy continued playing a melancholic tune, accompanied only by the sound of hooves hitting dirt sluggishly._

_He had made an irrevocable decision._

_He couldn't go back._

* * *

Gavin's back stung awfully, but no massaging would help. Darn muscles.  
His ribs hurt, too. But that was more of a sting, and less of the searing pulses running down his spine.

The cowboy had retreated to a guest room in the saloon after paying the fee for a one night stay, and decided to lay down for a little, but the pain prevented him from relaxing.  
He stood up from the worn bed and to the dresser, where a small mirror laid and inspected his face. A trim at the barber shop sounded good, if the town had one. His hand brushed over the coarse hairs.

He knew why his back hurt. He bore the mark of his bond with the devil, a sign to remind him of his sins until the day he died, and beyond.  
Gavin had been curious when it had first appeared, not scared. The tattoo-like symbols had started appearing once he collected his first soul, a black substance similar to ink, but oh-so much darker, had built under his skin to form a skull. Roses grew around them, blood red; the more people he killed, the brighter the colour.  
He wasn't sure for whom his reminder was, or the purpose behind it: Either it was for him, to remember what he had done, or for those around him to make sure they stayed away. He wouldn't be so dumb to go walking around the streets with his marks exposed though. Even if many may think it was a human-made tattoo, he liked being stealthy. Attack his prey before they even knew what was happening.

But he worried that wouldn't be possible for much longer. The "ink" moved higher to his shoulders, and it looked like they were going to take the trip downwards his arms - and he didn't know if they were going to stay.

There was a knock on the door, that pulled Gavin out of his thoughts. He quickly set the mirror aside and rushed to his bed to put on his shirt.  
A voice sounded from behind the dry wood: "Sir? May I come in?"  
"What? Ya wantin' me ta guess yer name first?" His shirt was still unbuttoned, but that didn't matter. His handkerchief and the cloth hid the marks; so he opened the door, a strange woman standing in front of him.

She was shorter than him, black hair tied back in a loose bun with a pencil fixed in the band. Asian heritage as far as he could tell. What was surprising was her attire. Pants, and a white shirt, the sleeves having been rolled up to her elbows. Her clothes looked ill-fitting - too big for her small frame. But despite her feeble physique, her brown eyes emitted strong determination and endurance. What this lady wanted, she'd get, was Gavin's first thought about her personality.

"Even if that would be rather fun, I fear you wouldn't want to spend your time with that game all noon. I'm Tina Chen, reporter for the **_Crossroads Daily_**. I have a few questions for you about yesterday's events when you single handedly stopped the bandit," she spoke with confidence. Gavin liked her way of talking, and appreciated it even more that she wasn't pussy-footing around, nor intimidated by him wearing his shirt open. Women were told to act a certain way around men, as if they were only serving them, and it disgusted Gavin to see so many actually following that shitty premise; women and men. He let Tina in to interview him, intrigued by her behaviour.

Gavin buttoned the shirt while the reporter got comfortable on the bed. She didn't waste time though and immediately pulled out a small notebook, and the pencil from her hair.  
"Could you describe what happened? How did it come to the chase and the girl, Helen Roberts, getting kidnapped?"  
"I dunno the reason she got taken, but I was on my merry way to the next town when they rode past me, and the lady screamed for help. So I followed 'em." Gavin kept standing by the dresser, leaning back against it with his arms crossed. This wasn't entirely the truth, but giving her the full story would lead to problems. Indeed, he had chased the man to help the girl, but the kidnapper had also been on his list. He killed two birds with one stone - doing his job, and gaining the trust of the expanding township. There would surely be more victims here. He just had to wait a little while.  
"And how did you apprehend the bandit? People in Crossroads say they saw you expertly throw a lasso around him and throwing him off his horse."  
"That's exactly what I did." Why interview him if she had already asked others?   
"Were you not concerned for Ms. Roberts' safety? After all, you could have caught her, too."  
Gavin shook his head, a smug grin present on his face: "Nah, Miss Chen, I know what I'm doin'."  
She eyed him with wariness. Did she suspect something? There was no way she knew who he was. No one had ever seen his face properly, let alone heard his own voice while on the hunt.  
"Alright, I suppose in the end nothing happened. Have you heard the news though? The bandit you put behind bars turned up dead yesterday evening."  
Gavin's eyes widened slightly. "Yeah? What happened?" Old news, but heck. Let's hear it.  
"The co-sheriff didn't say much, but I suspect that it had been the Itchy-Trigger Bandit. I also heard that you are interested in finding him." Wow, she did know her profession. And Gavin didn't like that.  
A different kind of pain pricked his muscles. It ran through his shoulders and down his arms into the very tips of his fingers. A sensation that let the hairs on his body stand high.

_"Kill her once she knows too much. You don't want your identity going up in smoke, do you? And an innocent soul here and there won't hurt anyone - at least not you."_

Gavin hated how the voice's urging got to him so easily nowadays. He felt an impulse, one that compelled his trigger-finger to twitch as if it was already pressed against the mechanism on his gun. He had forced himself to not take the lives of the innocent - he only wanted those dead who deserved it. But that ethic was crumbling more and more the longer time went on. Every shadowy aura drifting over the humans he passed almost caused him to pull out his weapon on reflex. But he had it under control.

And he would always fight for control.

"Yer darn right 'bout that! I wanna find that murderer who took my wife from me." Gavin clenched his fists, and stared at the wall with an angry expression. "Ya also know where he is?"  
Ms. Chen got up from the bed and walked to the window, looking down at the street. People outside were laughing, children playing. A peaceful day. "I believe he is closer than we all think."  
Gavin's heart beat faster against his chest. His hand moved to the hankie around his neck. It would be over fast if he did it now in the privacy of this room. With her position she wouldn't even realise what was happening, wouldn't scream...  
He had already removed the cloth around his throat with the clear goal to choke her, two steps closer than he remembered being, when he snapped out of his daze. What was he doing? He couldn't kill her. Her soul was clean. He.. he couldn't.

Her back was still turned to him by the time he had sat back down on the bed.  
"Is there anythin' else ya wanna know from me? If not, then go. Don' like folks snoopin' 'round my business."  
Ms. Chen turned to him, eyes halting on his neck. "No. I suppose I am done for now. Thank you for your time." She nodded her goodbye and left the room.

Gavin grit his teeth, his hand reflexively going up to cover the tattoo on his neck.

* * *

Richard had informed the mayor about yesterday's happenings, including the rowdy cowboy that had offered to catch the searched-for bandit. He wasn't all too surprised to hear that Fowler already knew of the presence of the stranger.

The man had not looked happy, as expected. During the conversation, the sheriff had shortly felt a dark presence settling over him, and it had halted his report.  
He wasn't feeling sick, but there was a heavy weight resting on his chest, and his gun at his hip felt cumbersome. There was something around them, something in _his_ town.  
He needed to find the man, and exterminate him like the pest he was.

"Good morning, Richard! What are you doing out here at this time of day already?"  
The man turned around when hearing the familiar voice.  
"Good morning, Daisy. How are you doing on this lovely day?"  
The woman smiled, and lifted her pink, handheld fan before her face as a smile escaped her rosy lips. "Oh, I am doing just fine. I see you're working assiduously as usual. I know how serious you take your work, but you shouldn't overexert yourself." She stepped closer to him, and Richard quickly pulled of his hat out of respect. He may speak out her first name, as they knew each other well for a few years already, but it was still an act of courtesy while they were outside.

"Did you need anything, Daisy?"  
"I wanted to ask the sheriff if he had some time to spare for a lonely woman such as myself, and join me for lunch later."  
"That does sound lovely, though I will have to see if I have the time."  
"Hm.. that's alright. If you do choose to stop by, then it may be one hour after noon."  
"Very well," he nodded and put his hat back on, "I have to go now. Please, keep an eye and an ear open for anything suspicious you see."  
"Always."

In the end, Richard had decided against visiting by his friend's mansion outside of town. He had a hunch on what she wanted from him, and he couldn't bring himself to lead her on in any way - he simply wasn't interested in romantic affairs, his work and brother were all that mattered. And there was also a certain degree of interest towards women. He sometimes found himself enjoying the company of men more.

The day had passed without any odd occurrences, but every now and then the weighty feeling he had felt earlier would return.  
He hadn't prayed with vigour in a long time, but this night, he prayed to God that he may protect his brother and that the bandit would be found soon so that he may rest easily again.

But not only Richard found himself with restless sleep. Another room in the town glowed in dim light, provided by a single candle.  
Gavin felt the inexplicable urge to go outside and search for his next victim, the next soul to deliver to the Devil and satisfy the monster's lust for blood and tragedy.  
He was tired, but his body moved on its own as he blowed out the candle, and opened the window. No one was outside, and even the bar underneath him had closed earlier.

A silent whistle resounded in the empty street, and slow galloping of hooves drew nearer.  
Betty stood underneath his window, waiting in the perfect position for him to jump down. He sat on the windowsill and let himself drop.  
He held back a pained groan as the landing caused his bruised ribs to rattle uncomfortably in his torso, as well as his balls that had gotten near squashed by the impact. "Ugh, phck," he hissed quietly. He knew he shouldn't do this. It wasn't good for the mare either, but he didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention by walking through the house.  
"Let's go."

The horse started galloping away outside of town, its brown hairs starting to darken in the dim shine of the moon's rays. It wasn't a trick of the eye; Betty wasn't a simple four-legged animal. She was the devil's servant's companion. And just like Gavin's appearance changed when the dark power from the fallen angel overwhelmed him, so did hers.

They rode through empty prairie for a while, the cold wind drifting through Gavin's black hair, but the man didn't feel chill against his skin.

He had bound his necktie around the lower part of his face, while the brim of his hat obscured people's view from his red eyes. The tattoos on his back and arms pulsed along with the beat of his heart and his fingers twitched nervously. His body was demanding something he couldn't fulfil yet: draining yet another soul from a human. There were enough sinners in the calm town of Crossroads, but with the sheriff there who was clearly on edge, it would be too suspicious to kill someone else so soon.

He reached a train track that ran through the land, but Gavin knew it wasn't one of the main tracks - but rich people used the route often.  
There was a distant _choo c_ _hoo_ sound and it drew closer.

"Hey, thought I'd meet ya 'gain."  
He turned his head towards the voice to his right. A man in his fourties sitting on a white stallion gave him a smug smile.  
The Twitchy-Trigger Bandit knew him. He had met the man before once as he had heisted a soul off of a man who had gambled and swindled all his life, with the occasional murder. To his surprise, the "Sharp-Eyed Bison" hadn't been scared, and actually had had the guts to talk to him - not that he had answered. There was an odd.. respect between them ever since they had made eye contact for the first time. Why Mr. Anderson respected him, he didn't know. But the devil's servant was in awe of the man's nearly clear and pure soul, despite his sinful doings. It was a miracle, and Gavin didn't have the heart to take his soul, too.

_You're not getting weak, are you, boy?_

"How 'bout we go in together?" he nodded towards the approaching locomotive. "Four hands can carry more than two."  
Gavin considered it. He nodded, and as the train began to pass them, he quickly followed, urging Betty to go as fast as possible by poking her with the heels of his boots.  
He heard four more hooves following close.

As the last wagon, with a small platform leading to the inside, was approaching, the young man kneeled on the horse's back, elegantly jumping onto the wooden planks.  
Anderson was also preparing to jump, but he looked a lot less self-assured. It didn't stop him to jump on the train as well, though. He barely made it, and was about to lose his balance on the edge where he had landed, when Gavin quickly pulled him in by his arms.

The old man looked a little shaken, but the smile didn't disappear from his face. "Thanks, sonny."  
The Bison wound a scarf over his nose and mouth before taking out his gun from its holster and opening the door.  
Gavin followed with both his guns still at his belt.

They were in the back, where the storage was located. Bags and travel cases laid neatly stacked near the walls. Anderson was already inspecting some of them, carelessly cutting open the cloths to reveal the loot; clothes, shoes and other few personal items. But nothing of much value.  
The man huffed angrily and stomped towards the next wagon where the guests were located. "C'mon. We gotta clear this place before it reaches the station."  
Gavin wouldn't protest. He didn't care about the money too much - all he needed was the souls gathered in here like snacks on a silver platter.  
The closer he stepped, the more he felt the black ink move beneath his skin, waiting agitatedly to be of use once more. He let out a low growl, curling his hands into fists.

"Ready? Let's go!" The door was pushed open, then the one behind it, and they were met with warm air, and approximately nine shocked faces.  
"Alright, everyone, calm down!" Hank said calmly as some people began to mumble, others looking ready to bolt. One young man did get up to run, foolishly so as they were on a moving train (but what did he know?), and the Bison aimed his gun at him without hesitation and shot him in the leg. "Na-ah, sit back down, youngster." The man yelled out in pain, clutching onto his leg that had started bleeding, dark spots forming on his olive green pants.  
"Now, we will do it the easy way, unless ya misbehave 'gain, so: Hand over everythin' of value. **Now**!"

The passengers did as ordered, some women even giving up their earrings, while others were forced to do so when the old man pointed his gun at them.

While everyone else was busy giving up their materialistic possessions, Gavin walked along the aisle, irises red as he searched for the souls he had come for. The first one was a man with grey, curly hair, and a rather expensive looking suit. Next to him sat his, what the Bandit supposed, young daughter. Her soul was pure, but the old man's was so strong it nearly stank as the devil's servant stepped closer. He gripped the man's arm tightly, the other hand resting on his head, his forehead to be more specific. Gavin felt the devil's markings taking over, watched as they snaked down his arm and over the elderly's scalp, drawing a scream from his throat. People began to get very nervous as the realisation of who they had standing there before them as his eyes began to emit a red glow.

The man in front of him collapsed, eyes as empty and hazy as that of a dead fish, but the black goo did not yet withdraw. It instead pulled him closer to a woman, probably just as old as the man he had just killed. She looked up at him with a terrified expression, clutching her purse to her chest as if that was the thing he wanted from her.  
His hand extended towards her head, and it didn't stop even as he saw quick movement in his peripheral vision. A dumb man, who had probably not fired ten shots in all his rich and comfortable life, lifted his gun at him. But he was faster. Much faster.  
The man laid dead before the smoke from the barrel of his gun had disappeared, and then gun was back in its holster.

"Oh god, it's him!" they whispered in horrified awe.  
"He really draws his gun faster than anyone I've ever seen doing so before!"  
"We're all going to die!"

Gavin was displeased about the people's mumblings. And for one second he found himself wishing he would kill them _all_. But he refused, and continued his work.

"Nice workin' with ya once more, sonny," the old man slapped him on the back, and the Bandit nearly tripped while they walked away from the train. They had left the locomotive once they had both completed their businesses there, both jumping back on his mare as the animal found them once more; Gavin certainly, and totally didn't use his help from the devil to call upon Betty. Carrying two grown men with the addition of a bag filled with money and jewellery would make the travel buck to Crossroads longer than need be, so he had decided to walk back a little.

Gavin was inexplicably tired. During the whole process of heisting mere three souls, he had to use all his willpower to not let his dark thoughts win, to keep focused on what he had came for.  
And now it showed, in his slow and exhausted movements.  
"You holdin' up?"  
The Bandit nodded.  
"Well, I won't say ya did great. I'm a god-fearin' man after all, but.. I hope ya get to enjoy life some day."  
And what was that supposed to mean? Gavin didn't want to think about, but couldn't help the eyebrow he raised out of reflex.

"I dunno how this works, never met the Devil 'fore. But I think ya don' wanna do this, really. You're young. You should be chasin' after ladies and scufflin' with yer friends at this age. And still.. you're here, doin' someone else's work."

Gavin wanted to shoot him.  
Alas, the man's white stallion galloped over, and the Bison rode off into the night, saying that he hoped they'd meet again.

Gavin hoped they would, too, as his body ached and burned where the ink was moving freely.

"Ha," he smiled, " _I don' wanna do this, really?_ "  
There was no redemption for him.

He was destined to burn in hell along with all the souls he had collected over the years.


End file.
